value of the beautiful. He dwells on the poetic susceptibility in its relation to nature, on the pleasures of the eye and the ear, and on the scenery of the seasons. He discusses the life of the student, and the encouraging and rewarding felicities which accompany the prosecution of intellectual pursuits. He considers the student's dangers and errors; the importance to him of maintaining his health, and of fitting himself for practical life while he is engaged and delighted in the world of books. The author also discusses the intellectual side of love, the life of the thinker, and the expression of thought and feeling in conversation, in wit and laughter, and in the gentler mode of tears. Part second shows the blissful possibilities of mind endowed with superior powers, and elevated by superior attainments. Essays of a condensed and very suggestive character are given on aspiration, on genius, on the discoverer, on the inventor, on the writer, and on the three inspirations that of the poet, that of the orator, and that of the hero." We assure every young person who aspires to be "a man," in the highest and truest sense of the word, that he will find in this book a noble aid. We recommend it to all who do think, and to all who would learn to think. (8.) THE QUEENS OF SOCIETY. By Grace and Philip Wharton. Illustrated by Charles Altemont Doyle and the Brothers Dalziel. New York: Harper & Brothers. Cincinnati Rickey, Mallory & Co. 12mo. 448 pp. $1.50. This work contains biographical sketches of Sarah Duchess of Marlboro, Madame Roland, Lady Mary Wortley Montague, Georgiana Duchess of Devonshire, Letitia Elizabeth Landon-L. E. L.-Madame De Sevigne, Sidney, Lady Morgan, Jane Duchess of Gordon, Madame Recamier, Lady Hervey, Madame de Stael, Mrs. Thrale Piazzi, Lady Caroline Lamb, Anne Seymour Dawer, La Marquise du Defford, Mrs. Elizabeth Montague, Mary Countess of Pembroke, and La Marquise de Maintenon. These ladies are called "Queens," because they were once leaders of fashion in the beau monde. They were not always models of character, and if the memory of most of them should perish the world would lose but little. (9.) SELECT LECTURES AND SERMONS OF THE REV. WILLIAM MORLEY PUNSHON. With an Introduction by Rev. G. C. Robinson. 12mo. 350 pp. $1. Cincinnati: C. Moore.-The brilliant fame of Mr. Punshon, as an orator, has preceded these lectures and sermons to our shores and prepared the way for their reception. He is evidently one of the few who are gifted with the highest order of eloquence. Yet his power is not altogether a "gift." In the evident careful elaboration of his sermons, which are not only written, but are actually delivered memoriter, is found demonstration that the inspiration of labor has combined with the inspiration of nature to endow Mr. Punshon with the crown of eloquence. We are glad to see his lectures and sermons produced in so neat and compact a form for popular use. THE following school-books have been placed upon our table. They comprise a part of the "National Series," published by A. S. Barnes & Co., of New York city, and for which the Rev. J. W. Gunn, of (18.) A NEW METHOD OF LEARNING SPANISH. By F. Ahn. 12mo. 149 pp. New York: D. Appleton & Co. Cincinnati: Rickey, Mallory & Co.-The philosophy of this book is based upon the aphorism, "Learn a foreign language as you learned your mother tongue." This is the only philosophical method of learning foreign languages, and the sooner it is introduced into our schools the better for the cause of education. (19.) THE LONDON QUARTERLY, for July, contains The Missing Link and the London Poor; Joseph Scaliger; Workmen's Earnings and Savings; The Cape and South Africa; Ary Scheffer; Stonehenge; Darwin's Origin of Species; The Conserva ive Reaction. New York: L. Scott & Co. Cincinnati: Pease & Co., 28 West Sixth-street. (20.) THE EDINBURGH REVIEW, for July, contains Chevalier on the Probable Fall in the Value of Gold; Latest Geological Discoveries; The Patrimony of St. Peter; Mrs. Grote's Memoir of Ary Scheffer, Prince Dolgoroukow on Russia and Serf Emancipation; Correspondence of Humboldt and Varnhagen von Ense; Cardinal Mai's Edition of the Vatican Codex. Cincinnati: Pease & Co. Price of one Review, $3 a year. Price of the four Reviews, $8. "Blackwood" and the four Reviews, $10. (21.) BLACKWOOD, for August, contains National Defenses; Lord Macaulay and Dundee; The Pursuit of Tantia Topee; The Great Earthquake at Lisbon; Norman Sinclair, Part VII; Wycliffe and the Huguenots; Domine quo vadis? The Transition State of the British Indian Empire. For sale as above. (22.) THE CHRISTIAN TEACHER is the title of a very able discourse commemorative of the life and character of Rev. John Barker, D. D., late President of Alleghany College. By William Hunter, D. D. (23.) MINUTES OF THE NORTH INDIANA CONFERENCE. Published by Rev. J. B. Birt. (24.) CATALOGUES.-1. Pennington Male Seminary and Female Collegiate Institute of the New Jersey Annual Conference. Rev. J. W. Wiley, A. M., M. D., President, assisted by six teachers. 2. State Female College, Memphis, Tennessee. Rev. C. Collins, D. D., President, assisted by thirteen teachers. New York Literary Correspondence. Dogdays and Summer Tourists-Wonders at Home-New To review the affairs and doings of the dogdays is a work especially appropriate to October. September is too early-the fruit is not then fully ripe; and November is too nearly akin to winter, and itself too surly, to do justice to a season so entirely unlike itself. It is pleasant when the leaves of the forest and lawn have put on their rainbow tints, and already begin to strew the earth with a brown carpeting; when the hoar frosts glisten in the morning sunshine and windy gusts cause the shutters to rattle at evening, to muse on the affairs of the recently-departed warm weather season. While this month's magazine is in the hands of the manufacturers, summer tourists are turning their faces city-ward; the gay resorts of the fashionable have already put on the air of desolation, so pertinently likened to "a banquet hall deserted;" while in the city Mammon opens his court and welcomes his returning worshipers, and Fashion collects her devotees within doors. But all these things are quite out of my line. I have never been at Saratoga, nor Newport, nor the White Mountains-I mean to visit the last, sometime-and though I have been at Niagara more than once, yet I prefer to go there when there are fewest visitors, and when the vampires, selling bogus curiosities, are not there; nor Blondin, playing the harlequin in the face of its sublimities. But I love to spend summer in the country, in the quiet of the farm-house, and out of the way of all artificial and modish pleasure-making, and I usually succeed in somewhat gratifying my wish in the matter; and as now in duty I am bound to write you a correspondence," I will do so by giving your readers some account of what I saw at my last rural retreat. Why will people go a long way to get what may be obtained near at hand? Your western pioneers will pass by millions of acres of unoccupied land, as good and as cheap as any beyond, to find a suitable place in which to build cabins, and make for themselves "homes." We send to distant regions for fine woods and fine marbles, while our own forests and quarries abound with equally-valuable materials. So, too, the denizens of our cities travel vast distances, by land and water, to find what may be easily found in its highest perfection in near neighborhood to the largest towns. To one of these sequestered nooks, just outside of the city gates, I betook myself when late the increasing fervors of Sirius sent the city's hosts to the open country; and there eschewing the excitements of the great world-only keeping a watch upon its movements-I, for the time, gave myself up to communings with the genii loci. But of these only the most unsubstantial shadows remain; for both the original fauna and flora of the region have vanished before the desolating march of civilization; or in a few cases, by fastening themselves upon it, they now flourish in new and widely-changed characters and relations. It is remarkable, however, how much history becomes localized in some little out-of-the-way place, in the course of two centuries, and how the inquisitive stranger finds himself most unexpectedly confronted with facts or monuments of things notable where he had least expected them. Now, if the reader would know my whereabouts at the time referred to, let him take up his map of "New York and vicinity," and just where his right hand grasps its eastern side, and the waters of Long Island Sound press upon the main land, he will see a little circle marking the place of the village of New Rochelle. That is the spot of my last destination. The name is a historical one, carrying the thoughts away to another land, and to the contemplation of some of the great names of history-Henry of Navarre, Condè, and Coligni. La Rochelle, the city of the Huguenots, their refuge and the place of their slaughter, is historically a sacred spot. Since the dreadful day of St. Bartholomew it has been a ruined city, crying to heaven for vengeance against Papal Rome, and the Popish hierarchy of France; and the repeated upheavings of the revolutionary earthquake in that country seem to signify that its cry is not disregarded. But I must confess to you that I do not like the practice of calling our American towns after those of Europe, and especially when they also carry the invidious prefix "New." Is ours always to be a new country, confessing itself secondary in the names it appropriates? And then what awkward distributions of names, and arrangements of duplicates as senior and junior! The largest city in America, and one among the largest and most widely known in the world, with its million of people, not only bears the name of an English provincial town, but buys the privilege to do so by constantly confessing its secondary relation. True, our metropolis was once new, and so was Methusalah once young; but he grew older, and so shall our Empire City; and its name, always sufficiently awkward, is steadily becoming more and more intensely untrue. I hope we shall have no more "new states, cities, rivers, or mountains. Speaking of the names of places, did you ever notice the names of the counties of the state of New Yorkthose given since the Revolution? Nearly all of them are of Indian origin and strictly local, and as smooth and sonorous as the names of Italian cities-these are some compensation for the ungainliness of the name of our state and its chief town. For our ancestors, however, there was an excuse for this use of foreign names; they were themselves foreigners, and often homesick too, and so they attempted to produce a kind of illusion in their minds by which their foreign resting-place might have a semblance of home. Virgil tells us how Eneas found his exiled Trojan chiefs in their little colonies, each a new Troy, with So Idas and Olympuses in the surroundings, and with of the Sabbath, and their denunciation of churches Simoises and Scamanders laving their fields. and ministers, they contributed to the general demoralization. The descendants of the pious Huguenots the exiled Huguenots, when quietly resting in their trans-oceanic colony, remembered with tender long-partook of the prevailing spirit of the people of which ous. ings la belle France; and because of their love for their native land they named their new settlement, la Nouveau Rochelle. The Huguenot element was a considerable one in the original population of our country, and in New York, of all the many classes that united to make up its polyglot population, none were more truly and worthily esteemed. The traditions respecting these early colonists are both pleasant and curiAs religious exiles they bore with them their characteristic zeal, both religious and partisan; they strictly observed all the rites of their religion, and would go afoot, to New York city-twenty miles-to attend public worship, till, after some years, a church was established among themselves. Though nearly two hundred years have gone by since that town was founded, and though great changes have occurred in almost every thing, New Rochelle is still largely a French town-not, however, in its language or manners, but as to the ancestry of the people and their family names, some of which are revered among our honored names, in nearly all departments of life. New Rochelle is also a place of some notoriety in early Methodistic history, and few places owe more to Methodism. Here, as in most parts of the old province of New York, the state of the people, both socially and morally, and more especially religiously, during the latter half of last century, was far from favorable. The war of the Revolution passed over these parts in successively-advancing and retreating waves, for seven years, and a state of things existed which no historian has adequately delineated. Education was almost entirely neglected by the common people for a hundred years, and for three successive generations very few of them could read, and the hand-mark was the almost uniform signature. A curious result of this oblivion of letters is seen in the orthography of surnames; which, after passing orally through three generations, were again written-but rather phonetically than etymologically. The descendants of the original Ten Eycks wrote Denike; the good French Fauchet, without change of sound, reappeared as Foshay; L'Estrange became Strang-g, hard—and Krankhuyt, dropping its caudal extremity, after the manner of tadpoles, was simply Cronk. The schoolmaster was not abroad in those parts during all the eighteenth century; books were few and far between, and newspapers almost entirely unknown. In religious matters things were but little better. The Reformed Dutch Church was originally the established form of religion, and afterward the Church of England; but the English clergy were often among the most unscrupulous of their class, and as to the Dutch Dominies," if they only had "coot larnin'" they were reckoned "fery coot," though both drunken and profane. A few dismal old churches were found in the larger villages, but church-going was, as to the masses, a thing quite unthought of as the usual Sabbath-day occupation. There were also considerable numbers of Quakers scattered over this whole region; and though they had not then so grievously departed from the faith as in later times, yet by their disregard 66 they were an undistinguished portion, and their town, like others in the region, became an irreligious community of nominal Protestants, unlettered and uncultured, intemperate and profane. In such a soil the seeds of French Deism readily took root and flourished apace, though the lack of religious interest among them caused all opinions on religious matters to be held very loosely. As early as 1771, only five years after the introduction of Methodism in this country, Joseph Pilmoor, the first Methodist minister in New York, accompanied by Robert Williams, then an English local preacher, and afterward the apostle of Methodism in eastern Virginia, struck out from the city on a tour of exploration, and penetrated as far as New Rochelle. Traditions of that visit still linger among the people as portions of the local legendary history. This was soon after followed by a visit from Asbury, then just arrived from England, who for some time itinerated through this and the neighboring towns, when as yet the Methodist itinerancy had not been organized in this country. A society was formedfew and feeble, but the nucleus of a great army-and the descendants of some of these original Methodists are still found walking in their fathers' footsteps, while the aroma of the names of these old worthies is still fragrant in all these parts. The house of worship provided by this little society in 1788, and still standing, but rejuvenated, is said to have been the first to the east of the Hudson river after that in New York. New Rochelle was long the head of one of the best circuits in the conference, the history of which would form a stirring chapter in the yet unwritten"Field-Book of American Methodism." The great revival that swept over these parts during the early years of the present century, added to the Methodist body a large class of young men of the better class, whose influence for good was very great. Not many of them became preachers, but as exhorters"-now an almost forgotten function-they were mightily effective. A remnant of these continued till comparatively recently; and among the never-to-be-forgotten things of my early days are the earnest and thrilling "exhortations" of some of these sons of thunder, to which I listened. Among the local events of my late summer's sojourn, was the funeral of one of the last of this class, permitted by Providence to linger after the others had departed. A moral and social revolution has taken place through all these parts, of which Methodism has acted as no inconsiderable agency. Passing one day to the northward from the village, along a broad avenue, studded with villas, lawns, and farmsteads, in a little stone-walled inclosure, just at the road-side, I saw a marble shaft, some fifteen feet high, with a kind of Egyptian capital, and on the side toward me was the inscription: THOMAS PAINE, Author of "Common Sense:" Born in England, January 29, 1737, Died in New York, June 8, 1809. Above this inscription was a medallion portrait, in bass-relief, as large as life, expressive, as I fancied, of great mental force and much bitterness, with the motto-said to have been Paine's own-"The world is my country; my religion, to do good." Here, then, sure enough, I was standing face to face with the cenotaph of the great assailant of-first, earthly kings, and then of the King of kings-standing over the spot in which he was buried fifty-one years ago, but whence his bones were afterward removed to be taken to his native land, but not to receive an honored burial there. Truly, the history of Paine affords matter for thought. I looked upon that marble pillar and received instruction. After his return from France, in 1802, Paine, now grown an old man, found himself almost an entire stranger in the country, poor and friendless, and with a temper and spirit not the best adapted to render an old man happy. Wearied and disgusted with public affairs, he now determined to pass the remnant of his days in privacy; and accordingly, with what means he could command, he purchased a farm at New Rochelle, at which he passed a large share of his time, till increasing infirmity, and weariness with the monotony of country life, drove him back to the city, where he lingered on in great misery, and in squalid filthiness, till the day of his death. Seeing that his end was at hand, he endeavored to obtain a suitable place for interment; but after being denied by several churches, and even by the Quakers, of whom it is said he asked the boon of an undistinguished grave, he directed that his body should be taken to New Rochelle and buried on his own grounds. His funeral was strictly private; for the wretched man was without friends; and it is said the drunken grave-diggers sung his requiem in coarse and fiendish jests. Several years later, Richard Cobbett-Peter Porcupine-successively Paine's greatest eulogist and detractor, had his bones disinterred to be removed to England. But when the ship that bore them arrived in the Thames, no one appeared to claim the consignment; but whether they were sold to the button-makers to pay expenses of transportation, or thrown into the river, is not certainly ascertained. It is certain, however, that no one knows the resting-place of Thomas Paine. A few years ago an infidel club in New York, who sympathized with Paine chiefly in his hostility to Chris-is-somewhat of the Timothy Titcomb style-less tianity, procured this monument to mark the place of his burial, which before was indicated by a pile of stones. The stone and its inscription are not unnec essarily offensive to the religious sentiments of the people among whom it is placed; and to their credit, be it said, it stands unmutilated, though every child recognizes it as marking the grave of a very bad man, and superstitious people do not choose to pass that way alone after nightfall. Though Paine was a freeholder of the town and for some years a resident of New Rochelle, and though it was the place of his burial and now it contains his monument, yet his influence over its people was always inconsiderable, whether for good or evil. He had run himself out of influence before he came among them, and was then rather adapted to repel than attract. fess to having opened and dipped into a package received from a Philadelphia house. Two conditions ought to stand each as a sine qua non, with all books that presume to solicit a reading; first, they should be intrinsically good, and second, they should be well "gotten-up," in fair paper, type, and workmanship. Of this second requirement, which respects the publishers rather than the writer, the issues of Challen & Son are examples worthy of commendation. Of the matter and composition of those now on hand I must speak more carefully. Rev. John D. Bell-a name not unknown to the readers of the Repository-encouraged, probably, by the favor with which his less elaborate productions have been received, launches his bark for a voyage on the great and perilous sea of authorship. A plump duodecimo of 462 pages, in generous type on snowy paper, smooth and firm, entitled, "A MAN," and dedicated-mirabile dictu—to a friend of this writer, with a moderately-liberal supply of the soft in said dedication, and with a table of contents that indicates sufficiently plainly that the book is a collection of "thoughts," is the craft upon which the expectant author makes his prime adventure. Now, the parts and properties above noticed are all that a professional reviewer or book-noticer is required to examine; but I have been so unprofessional as to go further; for I have actually read a large share of its pages. As to the title of the book, it is enough that when the thing came to be a name for it was needed; and as we call our infant boys John, Peter, and Salathiel-to say nothing of the new-fangled, heathenish names that have come into | fashion—and as ships, horses, and dogs have names given to them, so must books be named. Further, the title-page of a book should not usurp the office of the "contents;" nor should it be too long to be enunciated in a single breath, nor to be printed upon the label on the cover. Beyond this, with the negative condition, that it ought not to mislead by false promises, almost any thing will answer the purpose. I would not intimate that the title of Mr. Bell's book is not significant, though its pertinency was not obvious at first; and, moreover, an author has the right to choose the title of his book, just as in other cases names are given at the pleasure of the parties in interest. I have called this a book of "thoughts," and such it Shall I write about books? Happily I have kept out of the way of most of them, though I must con sparkling, perhaps, but much more wholesome and more truthful. It is never long-winded; for its matter is distributed into fourteen "papers," and each of these is further divided into from three to eight distinct pieces. It is a great advantage to be compelled to be brief; for where only a little of a writer's copia verborum can be given to the reader, that little is quite likely to be worth more than all the abundance would have been. I found "A Man" a decidedly-readable book, suggestive, instructive, and amusing. It may be read in the shade on a summer-day without fatigueI presume, though I can not say so from experience, that it would prove equally agreeable during the long winter evenings. I have, in this letter, of set purpose avoided any reference to what is going on in the great world of letters, where, however, there is no want of activity just now; of which, more by and by. Editor's Table. THE RESCUE.-Disasters at sea are always fearful, because the chances of life are so few. Sometimes a ship leaves port and never returns; or it springs a leak in mid-ocean and goes down with its living freight; or the devouring flames drive the company into the small boats or upon hastily-constructed rafts, and they drift for days before they are picked up. In the mean time the wretched mariners endure all the horrors of thirst, hunger, wet, cold; and these are all hightened by the imminent peril of their condition. Help, it may be, will never come. The waves may submerge their frail boat, or dash in pieces the raft upon which they float. The monsters of the deep that have followed them for days now glut their appetites with savage voracity; and the scene closes with wailings of agony and despair, mingling with the sighing winds, but heard by God alone. From the Shipwreck of Falconer we quote a scene: Our picture gives hope of a better fate for the poor wretch, struggling in the midst of the waves. Nobly does he battle with the furious elements. We must save the man. It is a rescue. Stoutly the rowers pull the oars; the helmsman skillfully manages the rudder, and the pilot stands ready to fling the rope. Let us hope the poor seaman has strength to catch it. Then, when the tempest is past and land is gained, will he "By turns recount the wondrous tale, or sing ARTICLES DECLINED.-The following poems have been laid aside, namely: Thoughts of a Wanderer; Lucifer (too long;) Pleasure; A Scripture Sketch; The Challenger Outwitted; Let there be no more Gloom; What I Love; To My Friend; To My Friend's Wife; The Lesson of Life; Our Gem; Hassan; I Love Solitude; The Nightingale; The Grave of the Itinerant's Wife; All is Fleeting; Farewell to a Traitor; Little Lelia; Heaven; The Tornado; The Lost Blessing; The Storm on Galilee; Love Without Confidence; The Midnight Call. THE REPOSITORY FOR CONTRIBUTIONS.-Many applications are made for the Repository in return for contributions. When these applications come from old subscribers, who through misfortune have been compelled to give up their old household companion, it is very hard to decline. Yet it is a matter that is hardly optional with us. Our action is meted and bounded by official obligations that can not be set aside. Were our ability equal to our will, we would send gladness to more than fifty families at once. SEWING-MACHINES.-We have numerous inquiries relative to "the best" sewing-machine. For family use, we must still recommend Wheeler & Wilson. The moment we are assured of a better-especially if it is cheaper-we will give it all due notice. We shall do this not in the way of advertising, but soberly believing it to be a public benefaction. John R. Wright, son of Rev. J. F. Wright, is one of the firm of A. Sumner & Co., the agents for the west. POETS AND POETRY OF THE WEST.-That indefatigable literary connoisseur, Mr. Coggeshall, our State Librarian, has been gathering materials for a work with the above caption, for several years. It will contain biographical and critical notices, as well as choice selections from the various authors, making an octavo of about 596 pages. We are permitted to take in advance a poem-never before published-by Otway Curry. It is entitled THE CLOSING YEAR. The year has reached its evening time, May warn us of the lonely night That gathers round the tomb. Another spring-time know. And yet, beyond the gloomy vale, We trust that when the night of time We shall, from long and heavy sleep, REV. E. F. NEWELL.-Among the few living links that connect the Methodism of the present with that of the past, is this aged veteran, now laid aside from effective work. In a note received from him not long since, he thus refers to the former times and companions: I go back to the days when the Lord poured out his Holy Spirit and blessed the faithful labors of John Broadhead, Martin Ruter, Phineas Peck, S. Langdon, etc. Happy, hap We must, also, respectfully decline the following py-thrice happy days! The glory of them still rests upon and cheers me. The calm, sweet hope of meeting the faithful children of God, cheers and comforts me in my declining years. And the desire to do good on earth and gain heaven, gives me patience to wait till my change come. I hope the |